


Distraction

by CarpentryandDarkMagic



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Fenders, M/M, Rough Sex, Smut, anders/fenris - Freeform, dub con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-18
Updated: 2013-03-18
Packaged: 2017-12-05 16:47:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/725564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarpentryandDarkMagic/pseuds/CarpentryandDarkMagic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sort of a PWP? Hurt/not very much comfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Distraction

Anders heard four raucous voices in the alley outside the clinic, and smiled to hear Varric and Isabela needling Fenris. 

"If I'd known it was that easy to get you on your back, I would have installed tripwires all over hightown," the Rivaini purred. 

"What good is it having rogues about if the two of you aren't keeping your eyes open for that sort of thing? Next time we're facing down more raiders than you can count, you might be wishing for a long blade between you and them." 

"You have no idea just how much I'm wishing for Fenris' long blade..."

"Please. Stop. All the way back from Sundermount. All the way to Darktown. Must we carry on?" Fenris' voice sounded wrong, and when Anders turned to face the door, he could see why. The bottom half of his face was covered in blood.

"A broken nose, eh?" Anders did his best to keep the amusement off his face.

"You should have seen it, Blondie. Tripped on a wire and got a Raider's boot right in the face. You'd have wet your smalls."

"You think his pretty eyes are big now, you should have seen his face as he went down. Just a green and white blur."

"You have to admit, it was quite handy when the windmilling sword took out that archer as he fell," Hawke offered kindly.

"Leave it to our Fenris to make *him* falling down fatal for someone *else*." Isabela's voice was a predatory growl. Even the smallest skirmish had the tendency to leave her alarmingly raunchy. Anders preferred not to think on it too much. Justice disapproved.

"Hm, well, unless anyone else has anything more serious to see to, I'll just see that 'our Fenris' is stitched up before the Raiders have time to put out yet another bounty on our heads."

Fenris dropped down onto the bench in front of the healer and tilted his face upwards. Anders didn't fail to notice that the elf kept his gaze firmly elsewhere as the mage handed him a cloth to wipe his face. He also made note of Hawke's lingering hand on Fenris' shoulder. Although Fenris seemed not to notice, Isabela commented as the three companions left. 

"I quite like the idea of 'our' Fenris..."

"Down, girl!"

Hawke pulled the door shut behind them.

"Just the nose then?" Anders asked when they had some privacy. He laid his hands gently on Fenris' cheeks and tilted his head to and fro to inspect the damage. 

Fenris frowned, but was silent.

"Where else are you injured?"

Muscles in his jawline twitched. "My...ankles."

To his credit, Anders' face was utterly still. "From the tripwire, of course. Is the flesh broken?"

"I do not believe so. My leggings protected me from the worst of it. There is pain in my chest when I breathe."

Anders' eyebrows raised. "Broken ribs? That's quite serious, I'll have to look."

Fenris pushed him back, palms flat against his chest, as if on instinct. Anders realised he couldn't remember ever seeing Fenris being touched by a member of their group other than Garret. Even Isabela, for all her flirting, kept a respectful distance. He wondered how long it had been...

"It will be difficult for me to help you if I can't touch you."

Fenris fidgeted in place. He clenched and unclenched his fists anxiously in his lap. 

"I'm sorry," Anders said coldly. "We could ask one of the others? Hawke?"

"No. It makes no difference who." Another pause, and then Fenris lifted his shirt to reveal ugly red and black weals along the right side of his torso. Only years of experience let Anders hold a breath that would have been a gasp.

"Fenris," the healer murmured, "I need to see where the bones are broken. If one were to pierce a lung, or any other organ..."

"I am aware of the danger."

"Of course. May I touch you?" He kept his voice calm and flat, just barely above a whisper.

Fenris' jaw was tight, his eyes glassy as if with fever. He nodded in silence. 

Gentle healer's fingers. Anders applied pressure only when absolutely necessary, checking for cracks in the bones, the depth of his concern mostly distracting him from the fortune worth of magical conduit running along his charge's chest and belly. From Fenris' reaction, flinching away in certain spots, he judged that two ribs were broken, but not badly enough to be a fatal risk. He moved his hands unobtrusively to his sides and saw that Fenris had been holding his breath throughout the examination. He averted his eyes. For the moment his training and Justice's nature distracted him from his personal dislike for the elf. 

"That's all I need," he said while Fenris re-adjusted his linen under tunic. "I can fix your nose by hand. As for the ribs, well, it's not life-threatening, but it would be best if you'd let me..."

"You know I won't." The disgust was plain in his voice and Fenris still refused to meet Anders' eyes. 

As usual, the elf's continued presence made Anders' flesh crawl. He was astounded that Merill and Hawke had never mentioned the effect the tattoos had on magic users. Unless...the tattoos didn't affect them? Perhaps it was related to Justice? The spirit had changed enough about what it meant to be human for Anders, perhaps this was just one more thing to add to the list. He felt like a glass vial full of metal shavings and Fenris was a magnet. Something in him was clawing at the surface, desperate to get out. 

Anders briefly imagined grabbing the shorter man, spinning him round and throwing him into the back room. He could lock them in, shuck off that leather armour and touch and nuzzle and lick and bite those tattoos to his heart's content. What would they feel like? Slick and metallic, or would it be just like touching any other Vallaslin?

ENOUGH. THIS SERVES NO PURPOSE. THERE IS NO JUSTICE IN THESE BASE IMAGININGS.

_Nor lack of it, it's not a question of purpose or justice at the moment. It's a question of..._

HUMAN WEAKNESS. YOUR HATRED AND LUST FOR THIS MAN CLOUDS YOUR JUDGEMENT, AS DOES YOUR DESIRE FOR THE LYRIUM.

_Human weakness is inescapable, Justice._ He knew better than to argue about the lust. Justice lived in his thoughts. Nothing was hidden or personal for Anders anymore. _And I shouldn't need to remind you that it's been YEARS. Actually multiple years...If I were permitted normal human touch, it wouldn't consume my mind, blind me and distract me from what's important._ He didn't know what it meant that Justice had no reply.

"Certainly it is not that bad. Have you not set a broken bone without the aid of magic?" Fenris accused.

"Of course I have. I'm just trying to take my time, put you at ease," he lied smoothly. How long had he been staring? TOO LONG, Justice's voice rumbled in the back of his mind. 

"It's called a bedside manner." He pictured adjusting his grip on Fenris' chin to bring his fingertips in contact with the lyrium.

"Please get on with it."

Anders hesitated, then took a leap. "That's part of why you don't like being healed with magic isn't it? You don't like being soothed."

"I don't like the idea of being at the mercy of an abomination! In fact," Fenris shook Anders' hands off and stood. "I'm sure one of the healers in Hightown will suffice to fix my nose."

"I'm sure they will, and I'm sure they won't ask any questions, either. About how it got broken or why they've never seen you around Kirkwall before or what your name is."

Fenris stood stock still, taut as the tripwire that had landed him there. 

"I'm sorry I was a little bit curious about you. If you'll let me, I'll painfully wrench that broken nose back to its perfect little straight line, and Hawke can deal with your snoring, probably forever." He rolled his eyes, but when Fenris actually looked him straight in the face, he saw that he'd touched a nerve.

"You have mis-read something. Hawke has no cause to hear me snoring."

"He'd like to, a fool could see that," he said bitterly. When he and Hawke had met he'd thought for a few moments...he was another mage, after all. Talented and handsome, and he shared his beliefs if not quite his level of conviction. It drove him mad that he had turned his gaze on this hateful elf instead of him. There were still times when he thought Garrett felt something for him, but he knew now that he wouldn't support what must be done.

"I think you're wrong," Fenris replied. "He pities me. For my past. That is all."

"Well, I think he'd try to make you happy, if given the opportunity. Very enthusiastically. With his mouth."

Fenris did something unthinkable. Fenris blushed. Anders was sure his eyebrows had disappeared up into his hairline. Seizing the opportunity he reached down, gripped Fenris' nose firmly and set it back into place with a painful *snap*. Fenris bore the pain silently, squeezing his eyes shut for only a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was curt and thick with pain. 

"Thank you."

"See, pity's not always so bad." Anders dusted his hands off on his robe. "I just spared you an emotionally painful moment out of pity. By grinding broken parts of your face together."

"Indeed, I usually prefer the fear and anger the rest of our companions harbour toward me, but in future when I want pity I will come to you."

He'd heard Fenris joke with the others before, and he was surprised at how...included he felt having that dry levity directed at him now. 

"You'll get pity and fear all in one. All this time we've been fighting when really we were perfect for one another."

"Hmm."

With his work finished, Anders' attention was dragged back to the itching in his fingers. He was ready to jump out of his skin. The lyrium called to him and he needed to either indulge himself or get out of Fenris' presence. He was hesitant to waste this rare moment of calm between himself and the warrior. That level of animosity was exhausting. They were standing so close together he could practically feel the warmth of Fenris' body. He'd never really noticed before, but there was quite a size disparity between them. Normally Fenris occupied a large space in a room, surrounded by an aura of ferocity and anger. It made him seem bigger than he was. In truth he was...Anders would have said willowy if he didn't value the connection of his head to his neck. 

Anders went to his desk and retrieved several bottles of Elfroot potion. 

"For your ribs. It will help with the pain, but you'll have to be very careful. It could be two months before they're properly mended." Fenris didn't reach for the proferred vials. "Fenris, you *have* to take them. If you don't manage the pain, you won't be able to breathe properly and sickness will settle in your chest. Especially in the damp of that old house. You use potions all the time, I know you do. It's herbs, not magic-"

"I do not require them. I have wine if the pain is too strong, and there are vendors in Hightown if I become ill."

"You do hate it, don't you? Anything that feels remotely good or pleasant. You'd rather just be miserable, even when you have the option. You have no idea..." he bit back the rest of the words spilling out of him. His hands glowed, the blue light shining through the vials and reflected across his chest. He knew Justice was dangerously close to the surface, but the usual flow of vengeful anger seemed to be blocked by something, like a half stoppered bottle. He dropped the vials and reached out with shaking hands. Fenris shied away, but when Anders' fingertips brushed the front of the elf's shirt, a wave of warm spirit energy burst from his hands, washing across Fenris' chest. The lyrium gleamed where the magic touched it, and Anders couldn't help but stare. Fenris threw his head back, mouth slack at the feeling of sudden relief. Anders felt the deep shuddering gasp under his fingers and swallowed hard. Fenris came back to himself almost immediately, pushing Anders' hands away and panting. Anders made a small sound in the back of his throat when he lost contact with the brands. Fenris felt a wave of repulsion at the desire in himself, mirrored in Anders' face.

"How dare you! You disgust me," he breathed. "Your weakness-"

"My _weakness_!" Anders grated. "You've no idea. You think living with physical pain is the only kind of strength? That because I can heal my injuries, I don't hurt? Do you know what it is to ache for another person? ANY person? You shelter yourself from human contact, but the leash Justice has for me chafes as much as the one I imagine Danarius paraded you about on. You are a slave still, to the anger and fear and desperation that kept you running all this time. I am no less a slave, and I have nowhere to run!"

He unleashed a bolt of force magic, pushing Fenris back until he tripped over the bench behind him. The elf scrambled to his feet and immediately bulled forward with a roar. When in reach, he slashed out with his armoured claws. Anders grabbed for his staff and tried to deflect the onslaught, but Fenris reached past with one arm and sliced at the mage's face. Anders cried out and felt blood dripping hot down his neck. He spun the staff and knocked Fenris' hands away, tangling the long arms around the shaft momentarily. Fenris swiped one foot between Anders' legs and knocked him to the ground, dropping to one knee to follow him down. He made a grab for the staff. Anders spun it again, this time bringing one end up in a brutal jab to Fenris' face just under his eye, but carefully avoiding his nose. The mage was holding back. He knew Fenris was at a disadvantage as long as Anders had his staff in his hands, but every attempted strike made him angrier and angrier. He could feel himself losing control, and didn't understand why Justice wasn't making an appearance. He growled and shoved forward with the staff again, to knock the elf off. Instead, Fenris pushed past the staff again and made another stab towards his face with his claws. Anders allowed the blow to connect, painfully, but curled his knees up under him to lash out with feet and staff - this time successfully throwing Fenris off and rolling over to straddle his opponent. He bore down on Fenris' throat with the shaft. The elf gurgled and choked, his eyes bugging. His vision tunneled and he knew that in a few more moments he would lose consciousness. Anders knew it too, and the wet, desperate sounds coming from Fenris' mouth only served to aggravate him further. He snarled and rolled off, flopping to his back on the filthy floorboards.

Fenris sucked in a breath and wheezed out a little cry. The mage tangled his hands in his hair and shouted in frustration. 

"Get out!"

After a moment he heard shuffling beside him and looked over to see Fenris sitting, one knee drawn up to his chest, head hanging down. Without looking up he reached over and put one hand on Anders' chest where the skin was visible above the neck of his tunic. His tattoos flared to life, and Anders felt every muscle in his body contract. A strangled cry escaped him, and he stared - wide eyed and powerless - at the ceiling. The sensation rode the line between pleasure and pain, so intense that he couldn't stand it. He heard himself moaning, begging senselessly. Fenris reined in the power, but didn't remove his hand. 

It took Anders a moment to master himself again. He panted and gasped for breath, his whole body sore. 

"Maker!" He breathed. "What..?"

"I know how the lyrium affects magisters. Every time you heal me it is not unlike sexual release. At the hands of a man - a _mage_ \- that I despise." The loathing was evident in Fenris' voice. "My entire life I have experienced these sensations only at the hands of mages, through magic or more...conventional means. Danarius and his compatriots, Hadriana, and now you." 

To his shame, the low rumble of the warrior's voice sent a pleasurable shiver through Anders. 

"Fenris..."

"I cannot continue to accompany Hawke and the others without availing myself of healing magic. I owe Hawke much and I would not give up the first chance of companionship in years because of this. I will regret this honesty later, I think. Don't mistake me. I *do* despise you. And I lay awake at night craving your touch."

The weight of Fenris' hand on Anders' chest suddenly seemed unbearable. He squirmed away. His mind was racing, but a few thoughts were central. Not least of which was the sense memory of Fenris' lyrium flare ripping through his body. *Not unlike sexual release...* When he glanced back up, he saw that Fenris' half lidded gaze was resting on him, and he became very aware of his own physical reaction to the elf's admission. He blushed angrily and swept hair away from his face. 

"What am I supposed to say to that," he demanded.

Fenris drawled in retort, "say what you like." He lay back on the floor. "It won't change anything. You're under my skin like a filthy parasite. I refuse myself sexual involvement because I'm afraid to relinquish control, but if the opportunity presented itself, I would-"

"Stop! Stop, Maker! Go home, Fenris. Go home and I can pretend this never happened, and you never said those things and you can...do whatever it is you do." He held his hands up defensively in front of him. "And I don't want to know what that is. Other than drinking, obviously."

"Anders," the mage started at the use of his name. "This will not happen again."

"If all it takes is a stumble and a healing spell, I'm not sure I believe you." 

Fenris sat up again, and rolled forward onto his hands and knees, closing the distance between them in a lithe crawl. Anders forced himself not to pull away. That is, until Fenris channeled energy through his tattoos again, lighting up like a torch. Anders was dazzled; drawn to the light like a cat to cream. Without thinking, he reached out with just his fingertips and touched... Like the first time, he tensed. His back arched and his jaw dropped. But this time it ended much sooner. He made a disappointed sound and recoiled as if he'd been burned. 

Fenris launched at him again, pushing him onto his back, a knee between Anders' legs and teeth at his throat. Anders yelped and pushed his own hands above his head to avoid touching the elf. 

"I can make you want me like that, can't I," he observed, murmuring against Anders' skin. "What would you do, to feel it again? I know you would touch me." He pulled back to look into Anders' eyes again, gave a brief pulse of power. "What else?"

"Anything, Maker take you," he confessed in a gasp. 

Fenris smiled, revealing the sharp little teeth that had left marks on Anders' neck. "Show me."

Even unactivated and through layers of leather and metal, Anders could feel the tug of those tattoos at his mind. He wriggled his hips briefly, lining his erection up against Fenris' through the supple leather of his leggings, and thrust against him. Rewarded with a needy sound and a puff of breath against his jawline, he ground against him again, and angled his chin, seeking Fenris lips with his own. Fenris leaned back and turned his face away. Not deterred so easily, Anders used that momentum to roll himself sideways, flipping the smaller man underneath him. Fenris might be as strong as himself, but Anders had more bulk. Fenris struggled underneath him, lashing out with both hands until Anders grabbed his armoured wrists in one hand and pinned them over his head. He sought Fenris' mouth again and kissed him, and the elf stilled for a moment. Anders knew he didn't want the kiss, and he didn't care. _He_ hadn't wanted any of this, and he was damned if he was going to play by Fenris' rules. He gripped the elf's hip with his other hand, squeezing tight enough to leave marks. He set a slow, torturous pace with his hips, adjusting to slide his length in the groove between Fenris' hip bone and his cock. He'd always hated when male partners did that. So often it left bruises. But Fenris gasped again and Anders took the opportunity to push his tongue into Fenris' mouth. 

Once Fenris had submitted to the kiss, it became a battle to remain the active participant. The elf squirmed until one hand was free and shoved it down between them under Anders' waistband and grasped his cock firmly. When Anders broke the kiss to take a breath, Fenris freed his other hand from the healer's grip and started working his pants down around his hips. He lunged upwards to catch Anders' mouth in another kiss, sucking and biting at his tongue. Their breathing was a chrous of pants and guttural sounds until Anders had pulled the dark linen top away from Fenris' chest and reached for the laces of his leggings. 

Fenris shouted and in a burst of adrenaline he was able to launch Anders off of him. Landing with a hollow *thud* on the floorboards, Anders' breath was knocked from him. His pants around his thighs hobbled the movement of his legs, and he wasn't sure whether he should pull them up or pull them off. Fenris answered that question for him, when he knelt beside him and yanked them down farther. Down around his knees, they allowed Anders to spread his legs, and in one smooth motion, Fenris grabbed at the base of his erection and swallowed him to the back of his throat. Suddenly being the receptive partner seemed like the preferable position. Anders cried out, then stifled his mouth with the back of his hand. Fenris hollowed his cheeks and sucked up along his length before setting a faster pace. He swatted Anders' hand away when he tried to bury his long fingers in that soft white hair. Unsatisfied with passivity, Anders tugged his own shirt off over his head and grinned slyly when Fenris took a moment to admire the view. He knew many mages that ignored their bodies in favour of mental pursuits, but his time in the Wardens and the wilds and the slums of Darktown had given him a more trim physique. He could practically feel Fenris' pine green gaze on him and the sight of his lips, red and slightly swollen from friction, coaxed a sound of need from him. Fenris returned to his work, his strong fingers stroking and squeezing around the base, tonguing his way roughly from root to tip. 

Almost without realizing it, Anders was speaking, repeating Fenris' name between gasps and pleas and blasphemies. He reached over awkwardly to where Fenris knelt beside him and pawed at the leather-clad hardness at his groin, but Fenris shifted away, his head bobbing faster. Anders gave him a hoarse whispered warning, and when Fenris didn't pull his mouth away, but rather settled his lips around the head of Anders' cock while fisting steadily along the shaft, Anders surrendered his resolve and let his release rush through him from head to toe. The contractions of Fenris' throat as he swallowed each spurt had Anders bucking up into his mouth, each thrust punctuated by a sharp little groan. He let his head fall back against the floor, his limbs jelly, but Fenris gripped a hip with one hand while wiping his mouth with the other. Without even a moment to rest, he was pulled upwards ass-first and for a moment, he was afraid Fenris would really thrust into him dry. 

Instead, the sound of a cork popping from the mouth of a vial, and the scent of Elfroot. A hand clenched in his hair, and then slick fingers were sliding along his cock, massaging his balls. The petting was so leisurely that Anders became restless, his legs and arms quivering from supporting his weight so soon after the body-wracking spasms of the lyrium shocks and his orgasm. He tried to look back, but the hand in his hair kept him in place. 

"What are we, on a date? Get on with it," he growled

Fenris' hand rested on his lower back, thumb stroking small circles along the cleft of his ass. 

"That's not very convincing."

Anders knew where this was leading, and refused to give in so easily. He let his arms go limp and his upper body angled down, head held up painfully by hanks of hair. He relaxed his legs and became altogether unhelpful and unaccomodating. 

"You want me to beg, but you have nothing to offer me. You showed your hand and I'm perfectly satisfied, and you can go home hard for all I care."

"You think so?" 

Although he couldn't see it, Anders could *feel* the lyrium flare again. This time lower intensity, but no less captivating, like a full body caress after a bottle of wine. It lasted just a fraction of a second and he held his breath to avoid making a sound. 

"Shall we test your resolve?" Fenris leaned down, pressing the length of his body against Anders' back, his cock nestled against the breach between his cheeks. "How long before you scream my name again, implore me in the name of the Maker to take you?" Another flash of sensation, lasting long enough this time to force the air out of his lungs. 

"Fuck you!"

Fenris laughed. Anders lashed his head back, cruelly hoping to make contact with the elf's nose, but Fenris saw the attack coming and avoided it with ease, laughing again. Anders' body went rigid when he felt the pressure of Fenris' cock prodding at his entrance. He squeezed his eyes shut and willed himself not to push back. With the lightest touch, Fenris brushed his fingertips against Anders' soft cock and Anders moaned. That sound was invitation enough and Fenris pressed forward until he breached the warmth of Anders' body. Both men sighed in unison while Fenris slowly pushed his way in completely. He moved painfully slowly for a moment - literally, Anders grimaced - before picking up speed. Anders felt fingers close around his neck as Fenris' thrusts became more frantic. Black and white spots danced in his vision as Fenris neared his climax. Fenris grunted. His hips stuttered. His grip tightened. Anders cried out as best he could and Fenris answered wordlessly. 

Fenris pushed him away and Anders gratefully gulped air. He fell on his side, his hands went to his neck as he choked and sputtered. The rustling of clothing and the clanking of metal signalled that Fenris was dressing next to him. Steady footsteps led away across the clinic. He glanced up from where he lay to see Fenris pause at the door. He looked back and it seemed like he might say something, but the moment passed and he strode angrily out into the Darktown streets.

**Author's Note:**

> First post here on AO3, concrit is very much welcome.


End file.
